


Papa's Bad Day

by alynwa



Series: Sugar and Spies Tales [73]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-30 16:25:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17832044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alynwa/pseuds/alynwa
Summary: Written for the HODOWE Challenge, this story was written for both "Do a Grouch a Favor Day" and "Random Act of Kindness Day."





	Papa's Bad Day

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the HODOWE Challenge, this story was written for both "Do a Grouch a Favor Day" and "Random Act of Kindness Day."

Illya had been having a very bad day.  He and Napoleon were both on desk duty after their last affair, though successful, had resulted in injuries that precluded them going into the field for at least a month.  He and his partner were in the beginning of the second week and the Russian was experiencing a form of cabin fever.  He couldn’t even commiserate with his partner because Napoleon had accompanied Mr. Waverly to Washington DC to attend meetings with the CIA and FBI directors to discuss common concerns and would be gone for three days.

He had dropped off four year old Leona Nicole at preschool and it had been downhill from there.  First, he had slipped in the Commissary because someone had failed to clean up some jelly on the floor which caused him to spill hot coffee on himself and let loose a string of curse words worthy of a fleet of Russian sailors.  Fortunately, no one present understood the language so he didn’t make a complete fool of himself.  Those who saw what happened and started to laugh were silenced by the look thrown their way.

He replaced his coffee and added a coffee cake to appease his ruffled feathers, but when he stepped off the elevator to head to his office, he was jostled by Marian from Human Resources, causing him to drop the cake on the floor and splash coffee on his shirt.  “Oh Illya!  I am so sorry!  I’ll buy you another one and bring it to your office.”

“No, thank you, Marian.  I’ve had quite enough coffee for the day,” he grumbled as he ineffectively flicked brown liquid off his shirtfront. 

Marian watched him stalk off and thought, _I’m glad we’re friends.  He looked like he wanted to throttle me!_ She hurried back to her office to call Glenna and warn her off approaching the Russian for any reason until his storm clouds blew over.

When he got to his office, he sat at his typewriter with the idea that he would work on his expense reports.  He was half – way through the first report when he ran out of typewriter ribbon.  A search of his entire desk didn’t turn up a single replacement.  His foul mood decidedly blacker, he decided to head to the labs to check on his experiments only to discover that one of the techs had accidentally knocked over one of the beakers which held his potential antidote to THRUSH’s latest veridical.  “You realize,” he had growled at the terrified tech, “that beaker held the last sample of the truth serum?”  He was so angry that his accent became stronger.  “Your clumsiness has set my research back an undeterminable length of time.  I have to wait until Medical can draw more blood from a Section II suffering its effects.  Do you think we agents line up to be injected with truth serum?”

The focus of his ire was practically quaking in his boots.  Being dressed down by Illya Kuryakin would have been bad enough if he were yelling, but the quietly spoken, heavily Russian accented words being directed at him while he was held in the glare of the agent’s ice – blue eyes made him almost wet his pants.  “I, I, I am so sorry, Mr. Kuryakin!  I’ll clean it up!  I promise!”

“You have helped enough.  Please leave my lab.”  Illya watched as the man scurried to and through the pneumatic door before cleaning up the mess and attempting to salvage what was left of his experiment.  By the time he finished, he could feel a headache trying to rear its ugly head.

He checked his watch and saw that it was almost one – thirty.  _No wonder I am getting a headache; I have had nothing to eat since yesterday!_ He returned to the Commissary and perused the floor carefully as he walked to a table after buying a large bowl of tomato soup and a ham and cheese hero.  Settling into his seat, he picked up his sandwich and was able to take one large bite before his communicator trilled.

“Mr. Kuryakin,” Mr. Waverly said, “Mr. Solo and I are meeting with FBI Director Hoover and we need information about Agents Dancer and Slate’s ‘Flamingo Affair.’  As you know, they are away on assignment, so I need you to pull Mr. Solo’s copy of their report and give us what we need.”

“Yes, Sir.  When do you need the information?” he asked as he looked longingly at his food.

“Immediately.”

 _I knew it,_ he thought as he stood.  “I am in the Commissary; I will be in my office in a few minutes, Sir.  I will contact you when I have the report.”  He put his soup and sandwich on his tray and hurried to get to the office.  Fortunately, there was no one on the elevator and no one to bump into in the hallway, though he managed to slosh his soup onto the hero.  He pulled the file and contacted Mr. Waverly.  What he had hoped would take a few minutes dragged on for nearly fifty.  By the time Mr. Waverly signed off, his soup was a coagulated, unappetizing looking mess and the sandwich bread had married the napkin where the soup had splashed over it and they were inseparable.  Disgusted, he dumped the remains of his lunch into the trash even as he chastised himself for becoming so Western that he was throwing away perfectly good food.

He decided to just chalk up the day as a bad one, leave work early, pick up Leona and some take out and go home.  He grabbed his suit jacket and coat and headed for Reception.  He reached for his ID badge and handed it to Glenna.

“Enjoy the rest of your day, Illya!” she said cheerfully.

“I have not enjoyed this day thus far,” came the grumpy reply.  “Goodbye.”

After he exited, Glenna called Marian back and said, “You were right.  He is _really_ grouchy today!”

“Papa!  My Papa’s here!” Leona shouted when she saw him peeking through the door’s window.

Miss Davis, the teacher, waved for him to enter the classroom.  “Mr. Kuryakin, how’s your day going?”

“I have had better.  I hope my coming a bit early is not a problem.”

“No problem at all!  We’re just winding down for the day.  Leona, please go get your things from your cubby so that Papa can take you home.”

Leona, who had gone back to her table to sit with her friends, said, “Yes, Miss Davis!” and went to get ready to leave.  She put on her coat and hat and grabbed her lunchbox.  “I’m ready!”

Illya took her hand and turned to say goodbye to Miss Davis.  “Thank you for allowing Leona Nicole to leave early.”  He was surprised to see her holding a brown paper bag out to him.

“Here,” she said as she placed the bag handles in his free hand, “You look like you need this way more than I do.  I insist you take it.”  She leaned down to Leona and whispered something in her ear.

“I will, Miss Davis.  Bye!”

He didn’t want to take the time to look through the contents nor did he care much what she had told Leona.  “Thank you, Miss Davis,” he said as he and his daughter took their leave.  He wanted nothing more than to get take out and go home.

 _He looks like he is having the day from hell,_ she thought.  _I hope my Goodie bag makes him feel a little better._

Illya was feeling much better.  He and Leona had gone to Svetlana’s Restaurant and picked up some Russian comfort food.  That and the two glasses of vodka he had drunk had him feeling much more mellow.  He and Leona were watching television cuddled together on the sofa when the phone rang.  “Hello, Napoleon.  Who else would be calling?  Do not ask, I will just say that I am glad to be home with our child.  Yes, she is right here waiting patiently to speak to you.  Hold on.”  He gave the handset to her.  “Daddy wants to talk to you.”

“Hi, Daddy!  How are you?  Good.  We went to Miss Vlana’s and got borsk.  _Borscht._  Papa got other stuff too that I can’t say right, but it tasted good.  I love you too, Daddy.  I will, Daddy.  Bye – bye.”  She handed the phone back to Illya and went into the kitchen.

Illya heard the fridge door open and close.  “Good night, Napoleon.  We will speak to you tomorrow.”  Leona came back just as he hung up the phone.  “What did you get from the refrigerator, Little One?” he asked and was surprised when she handed him a half – pint container of milk.  “Why did you give me this?”

“Miss Davis said to do it.  She said it goes with the bag she gave you.  And Daddy told me I should do _this_.”  She came closer and hugged him tightly and kissed his nose.  “Daddy said you needed a hug and a nose kiss.”

Touched, he hugged her back and kissed the top of her head.  “Leona Nicole, you are the best part of my day, every day.  Go put on your pajamas and I will come tuck you into bed.”

After he had put his daughter to bed, he looked in the bag he had been given and was pleasantly surprised to find a small pack of Oreo cookies, a coffee cake and some butterscotch Life Savers.  This small act of kindness made him smile as he happily ate the coffee cake.  Dunking a cookie into the open milk he thought, _I will have to thank Miss Davis for bestowing a favor on a grouch._

 

 

 


End file.
